I used to work with a fellow who was nicknamed Mountain Time.  Not a big deal here in southern Idaho, but we were working in New York.  He got the name because he was consistently late.  Often very late.  He once made it to a basketball game he was covering at halftime.

Idaho is one of the few states split between time zones.  The north, which does a lot of business with Spokane, is in the Pacific Zone.  The South and East do a lot of business with Salt Lake City.  So we in the south join them under Mountain Time.

I don’t know why so many women in the southern part of the state appear to be living with clocks timed for Coeur d’Alene.  Are the women of Kootenai County adjusting by setting their clocks to Guam?

I remember an Easter Sunday about a decade ago.  I agreed to meet a lady friend and her sister at church.  After explaining it was going to be crowded and that if we wanted to get seats we had to arrive 45 minutes early, I got nodding approval.  The next day I arrived at 10:15.  I took my usual seat and then people kept coming by and asking if the seats next to me were taken.  It’s not polite to save seats in a crowded church.  When they arrived late I was standing along a wall.  On a concrete floor covered in thin carpet.

I have sciatic issues.  After 75 minutes I nearly crawled to my car.  They whined about a lack of seats.  They had spent two hours applying makeup after eating their breakfast.

When I reminded them life is governed by a clock, they acted offended.

A clock very much rules my life. At 6:05 a.m., Monday through Friday, I better have something to say.  Before hosting talk shows, I worked for 17 years in newsrooms.  I always had deadlines.  I would be on the street covering an assignment when someone would pull me aside to pitch a story.  Usually a woman.  All the while I would be trying to explain I wasn’t looking for a story.  I already had one and had to get back to my desk.  Oblivious.  Absolutely oblivious.

When you plan a lunch get-together for 11:15 I find myself waiting until 11:50.

You can call me a misogynist and make excuses but running in another time zone is rude.  Sorry if your feelings hurt, but you ladies need some finishing when it comes to etiquette.

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